Many authors say they agonize over each word they write, but in dictating The Diving Bell and the Butterfly to an assistant with nothing but his left eye and her willingness to repeat a frequency-ordered alphabet until he blinked at the correct letter—a process that took, on average, two minutes per word, culminating in four hours a day for a total writing period of ten months, with no room to edit after it left his head—I’d say journalist Jean-Dominique Bauby has them beat.

Up until December 6th, 1995, Bauby was the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine, but a debilitating stroke shot him into a coma for 20 days, and when he awoke, he was left completely paralyzed (save for minimal movement in his neck and eyes [though his right eyelid was later sewn shut]) and unable to speak. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly chronicled both his new life with locked-in syndrome (or as he called it, his diving bell, where his mind, a butterfly, still roamed free) and what his life was like before. The book reads more like a series of (obviously) short vignettes than a standard memoir, with much of Bauby’s life—his childhood, his success at work—barely blipping the map.

Though the jacket files the book under ‘inspiration,’ I’d say the idea is more inspiring than the content. Bauby, by his own admission, was a man more interested in sports cars, culture and working seven days a week than spending time with his wife (from whom he later separated) and kids. If the stroke hadn’t occurred, he might be type of celebrity blowing through marriages and millions, but he did have the stroke, and this is what he chose to blink out in his final months, the published version hitting a mere two days before he died from pneumonia.

Bauby’s voice is calm and even and he doesn’t try to paint himself sympathetically. He reflects on his kids, his father, lovers he had. He expresses frustration with the hospital staff for their lack of care, bewilderment over people talking about him being a vegetable, and he often daydreams of the things he would like to do again. By far, my favorite section is “The Dream” – a passage that reflects on the dream he had right before waking up from his coma. Before then, Bauby never remembered his dreams, but upon realizing that he never really woke back up, Bauby understands why it stuck, and the calm horror of that scene breaks any rule I could have about never including a dream sequence. The longest section of the book, “Our Very Own Madonna,” about Bauby’s vacation with a lover, is another strong section, especially as it notes some of the disparaging views and opinions he had before his stroke. Not every section in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is good, and the power of idea is still more inspiring than the end result, but again, this is what Bauby wanted to say when his world was reduced to a hospital bed, and I’m glad I was able to listen in. Three stars.